


Doggy Want The Kitty

by neighborhoodninja



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: Crack, M/M, Metamorphosis of a sort, PWP, kitty!Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 02:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neighborhoodninja/pseuds/neighborhoodninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael turns into a cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doggy Want The Kitty

**Author's Note:**

> i aPOLOGIZE

Michael doesn't know how it happened, but it did. 

He wakes up, Ryan snoring next to him, at 11:30. It's a Saturday, and Bob promised him the day off (a rarity.) Michael rubs a hand through his boyfriend's hair affectionately before getting up and going to the bathroom. 

He feels like, even though the walk is short, it's different. His lower half is even more unbalanced than it is normally, and his butt feels…heavier. But Michael's too groggy to investigate.

But when he looks sleepily into the mirror, Michael screams.

Ryan immediately wakes up at the sound, and Michael can barely hear him fall off the side of the bed over his screeching. "MP!" Ryan gasps, and he knocks open the bathroom door, hair still disheveled and bedhead-curly. 

When he sees Michael, Ryan raises his hand to his mouth to muffle a yell. 

"Oh my god."

Michael just makes a miserable noise.

What he sees in the mirror is his face, but not his face. There are two giant fucking cat ears attached high on the sides of his head, and his normal ears are gone. Three whiskers sprout from either side of his mouth, and his eyes look like he'd been given a makeover by Adam Lambert, Pete Wentz, and Johnny Depp as a team. 

But the worst part is the fucking tail. 

"Oh my fuck, oh my fuck, oh my fuck," Ryan repeats, and it isn't exactly helpful. "MP, you've got a tail, what the fuck- "

Michael just stares numbly down at the four-foot long _thing_ coming out of the top of his ass. It waves back and forth, like it's mocking him. 

"What..." Michael mutters, and then he blacks out.

 

 

Michael bats Ryan's hand away from his ass. "I said NO."

"But whyyy?" Ryan whines, pouting. Michael rolls his eyes and goes back to boiling the water for coffee. 

"Because I'm a motherfucking _feline_ right now, idiot."

Ryan had revived him from his coma with a bowl of icy water in the face, and when Michael jolted awake, he let out a noise that sounded disturbingly like an angry yowl. Michael takes that as a sign that even his vocal cords have been taken over by whatever disease he's contracted that made him turn into a cat overnight. 

"But I don't care about that." Ryan presses close against his back and tries to touch Michael's tail through his boxers. "This is so fucking awesome."

"Stop it!" Michael jerks away and turns to face Ryan, tail swishing back and forth. He couldn't find anywhere else to put it, so he just cut a giant hole at the top of his boxers. The thing seems to have a mind of its own.

Ryan looks hurt. "MP, you're so mean."

Michael raises an eyebrow. "I'm not being mean, I'm being _rational_. I don't think you should go feeling up any of my cat parts until we figure out what's going on."

Ryan grins. "You sure about that?" Michael feels Ryan's hand trail up his back and he squirms, but Ryan keeps him pinned back against the counter. Ryan's grin widens and his other hand comes up and just barely brushes Michael's furry ear.

Michael lets out something that sounds like a meow and claps his hand over his mouth. Ryan dissolves into a fit of laughter. 

"I…knew that would…happen…" He gasps out, and Michael blushes bright red. 

"Shut up. Don't you have to be at the pool?"

Ryan looks at the clock. "Shit." Michael smirks, "Yeah, thought so."

Ryan dashes into his room, which he shares with Michael whenever he comes down to Gainesville, and rustles around throwing stuff into a giant duffle bag, He comes out and gives Michael one last ogle. "Okay, I gotta go." He smiles. "You gonna be okay by yourself?"

Michael rolls his eyes. "Get outta here. I'll be fine." 

Ryan laughs. "Gimme a kiss." At Michael's skeptical expression, he says, "Don't worry, I'm not going to try to grope your tail or whatever."

Michael sighs, but he puts one hand on the back of Ryan's head and pecks him on the lips. "Gregg's going to kill you. Get going."

Ryan's still grinning as he walks out the door, leaving Michael with whiskers, ears, a tail, and no fucking idea what to do with them.

"Okay, Michael, calm down." Michael mutters, going back into the kitchen. The problem is, once he opens a cabinet, his eyes settle on a random can of tuna sitting in the back. Michael gulps.

It's like Ryan's presence was somehow keeping his cat instincts at bay. Before he left, Michael was his normal bitchy Monday self. Michael suddenly regrets reminding him of his training. 

_Well, it's not like it's gonna hurt, right?_ Michael reasons with himself as he grabs the can of tuna. _I need to eat something._

Five minutes later, the entire thing is gone, and Michael's still starving. He forces down a bowl of cereal with way too much milk, because he's craving it. Then he goes to the bathroom to do some serious shit-analyzing.

Michael makes a face as he looks in the mirror. Of course, he has to be a ginger, orange ears poking out from under his dark brown hair. Michael raises an eyebrow experimentally, and one twitches. He raises both eyebrows, and both ears wiggle.

So that's what Ryan was finding so fuckin' hilarious.

Michael grimaces, because he has to admit that when Ryan touched his ear, even though it was so light, it felt really good. But he can't quite focus on stuff like that now, since he has other shit to deal with.

Michael plucks at a whisker and decides to leave them alone. At closer inspection, his eyes are greener, the brown almost completely gone. It's kind of scary, and Michael wishes his eyes hadn't gotten screwed around with.

Then, an idea strikes him. Michael turns off the light and pulls out his phone, wondering if this is actually going to work. He snaps a quick selfie, then turns the light back on. His jaw drops when he sees the photo. His eyes are doing that weird tapetum lucidum thing, when cat's retinas reflect a camera flash. Where his normal brown should be, before it was replaced by green, is now a flat, bordering-on-neon blue. 

Michael decides that this is too creepy for words and puts his phone away, shuddering. Then he turns with a sense of foreboding to his tail. 

The thing has to be at least four feet long, tawny orange with stripes, It fluffs out a little at the end. Michael leans to one side and it sways the other way. He spins and it wraps around his waist. He shakes his butt and it swished back and forth, curling.

"Christ." Michael breathes, wondering if he should call Ryan. 

_No,_ he thinks stoically to himself. _I can get through this by myself._

He leaves the bathroom mildly disgusted with his body and heads for the fridge, suddenly really thirsty. Michael pulls out the gallon of milk and downs it all in three gulps.

Michael freezes and slams the now-empty jug down on the counter, starting to panic.

"What the fuck." He whispers to himself, but something moving in the corner catches his attention. It's a small cricket that must have found an escape from the Florida mugginess in the air-conditioned house. 

Normally, Michael hates bugs with the fire of a thousand suns and makes Ryan kill every one he sees. But before he knows it, he's stalking over to the corner of the room, something like a low growl building in the back of his throat. 

The cricket twitches a little, and Michael lets out a yowl and bats at it with his hand, dropping to his knees. He immediately scrambles back, freaking out, as the cricket hops frantically. Something inside him's telling him to chase that thing down and end its life, and when it hops out the slightly open window, Michael lets out another sound that's like a meow of frustration.

"Okay, I have to stop, I have to fucking stop." Michael says again to himself, running his fingers through his hair, but they catch in his ears and he can only get halfway through. He groans and tromps back up the stairs.

But when he gets into Ryan's room, his eyes zoom in on a tiny movement in the corner and it turns out that there's another cricket, and something in Michael snaps and he lunges forward with a hiss. The cricket chirps and hops away, back toward the stairs, but Michael's not about to let that shit go down. Bounding down the steps, Michael touches down lightly on the landing and sweeps his eyes across the room until his ears pick up a tiny scratching sound from under the sofa. 

He makes a noise that sounds like "ROWRGHHHHRYAAAA" as he pounces, swatting his hand beneath the sofa. There's a small chirping noise and Michael feels the cricket's legs skitter across his palm, and that's what reminds him of the fact that he's (mostly) human and bugs are pretty near the top of his phobia list. 

Michael lets out an almighty screech and he's pretty sure that the cricket does too, so he yanks out his hand from under the couch and scrambles back into the corner of the room. 

"How." Michael mumbles to himself. 

 

 

It's another three hours before Ryan gets back from the pool, and Michael doesn't know how he makes it through by himself, but he does. The first thing Ryan does when he sees that Michael's still half-cat is start laughing, and that doesn't make Michael feel any better.

"Jerk." He mutters, and Ryan actually looks guilty. 

"Sorry, babe." Ryan says, moving closer and giving Michael a tentative little kiss on the cheek that melts his heart, even though it was already melted in the first place. "It's just kinda hilarious. Anyway, you hungry?"

"Fuck yeah."

Ryan opens the fridge and starts pulling out lettuce and tomatoes, but what catches Michael's eye is the stick of butter in the door's compartment. 

"Doggy. This." He says under his breath, because it's like his brain can't even think about anything else than downing that entire stick of fat. 

"Huh? Like, a butter sandwich?" Ryan makes a face. "MP, that's- "

"Just make it. Please."

Ryan shrugs, grinning. "Whatevs."

The minute Ryan starts spreading some butter on the toast, Michael grabs the knife and the stick of butter. "No, no, no." Michael plops the giant chunk onto the bread, slaps another slice on top of it, and presents it to Ryan. "Now we're talking."

Michael sits on the counter and chomps away at his butter, and somehow, Ryan extracts the bug incident from him. Ryan just wheezes and points at him, and Michael tries to look as pissed as possible. 

"I need to document this somehow." Ryan says, patting his pockets for his phone, but Michael bats his hand away. 

"NO. You're gonna tweet it or something."

"I'd never do that."

"I know you would, and when you did, I'd be forced to retaliate with that time you stepped in wet cement and got stuck in the sidewalk for four hours because you didn't want to abandon your shoes." Michael raises his eyebrows threateningly.

"You actually took _photos_ of that?" Ryan looks horrified.

"Too good of an opportunity to pass up." 

They finish dinner and head upstairs, but it's only when Ryan pushes open the door to his bedroom that Michael realizes what could potentially happen. 

Ryan, being as oblivious as he is (or pretending to be,) goes straight to the bathroom. Michael can hear him showering. He swallows and strips down to just his boxers, flopping down onto the bed in what he hopes is the least sexiest position possible. Michael decides immediately that he shouldn't engage in any fucking until his cat parts disappear, if they ever do. 

But Ryan seems to have a different plan, because the moment he steps out of the shower, with only a towel wrapped around his waist, he makes a beeline toward the bed and climbs on, supporting himself with one hand next to Michael's head. 

"Hi." He says, grinning in that way of his that is either sexy or idiotic. Today, it must be on its sexy streak, because Michael's breath hitches. 

"You're not-" He starts, but Ryan cuts him off by pressing their lips together. Michael tries not to let himself enjoy it, but it's impossible.

"Not what?" Ryan says, that grin still on his face. His towel is starting to come loose, and Michael forces himself not to look down. Ryan's grin widens and he slides on top of Michael, kissing him again. Michael lets him, even though he can already feel his self-control going out the window.

When Ryan's lips move down to his neck, sucking just under his jaw, Michael makes a tiny sound. "You shithead."

Ryan chuckles and licks over his collarbone, hands traveling to his boxers and starting to tug them down. "Uh-huh."

Michael gulps and lets himself look down, gasping when he sees that, at some point, Ryan's towel magically slipped off. "Ryan…" Ryan sucks hard on his collarbone and Michael makes a noise that sounds like…

A purr.

"Holy shit." Ryan says, pulling back to stare at Michael. "Did you just purr?"

"No. That wasn't me." Michael insists, blushing, but Ryan's not about to fall for that.

"Fuck yeah." He says, moving back to Michael's neck and biting down, and Michael makes another purring noise, louder this time. 

"Ryan." Michael moans, letting one arm drift up around Ryan's neck as Ryan tugs his boxers all the way off. Ryan seems to remember that he has a tail, and his eyes light up. "Oh, hell no- " Michael says, but it's too late, because Ryan's kissing him again and stroking lightly over his tail, and he moans again. "Fuck."

Michael makes a noise that sounds like a meow this time when Ryan pulls his hand back. "Doggy, just do it."

"Okay."

Ryan kisses a trail down his neck and Michael moans, letting Ryan spread his legs with a hand on his inner thigh. Ryan sucks on two of his fingers before slipping one inside Michael, then another, then Michael's pants turn to a continuous purring noise. Ryan groans.

"You have no idea how fucking sexy that is." He tells Michael, sucking softly on his jaw as he crooks his fingers. Michael gasps when he finds his spot. 

"Fuck me." He says, and Ryan pulls his fingers out, gripping Michael's hip with one hand. Michael shifts and turns over, and Ryan's arm immediately wraps around his waist and brings him onto his knees, leaning slightly forward. His other hand stays firmly planted on Michael's hip. 

Ryan's lips press just below his ear as he slides into him, and Michael moans, one hand gripping Ryan's around his waist and the other traveling up and tangling in Ryan's hair. Ryan groans as he settles into a rhythm, and Michael closes his eyes, gasping as Ryan gets deeper. 

Ryan's hand leaves his hip and before Michael knows what he's doing, he's rubbing his ear. Michael's eyes fly open, because it feels fucking awesome, and another purr comes out of his mouth, mixing in with his panting. "Harder, Ryan."

"Shit." Ryan says, moving lower and sucking at his neck as his hips jerk forward harder, arm tightening around Michael's waist. Michael cries out, digging his fingers deeper into Ryan's hair as Ryan's hand travels to his other ear, and before he knows it, he's coming. Ryan thrusts into him one more time and holds himself there as he comes, moaning against Michael's neck. 

Michael turns to Jell-o after that and flops down onto the sheets, shuddering and panting. Ryan rolls over next to him and breathes hard, one finger still stroking over Michael's right ear. 

Michael turns onto his side and Ryan looks over at him, still breathless. "I'd better not fucking die because of this."

Ryan laughs and pulls Michael closer, flopping exhaustedly onto his chest. "I think you'll be fine." He says into Michael's neck. "But that ear shit was fucking amazing."

Michael rolls his eyes, reaches down, and slaps Ryan's butt. "Shut up and sleep."

 

 

Michael wakes up the next morning without cat parts, and he and Ryan celebrate by having a morning fuck, without any purring or unnecessary ear-touching, just the way Michael likes it.

"I just don't know why my body had to pick a _cat_." He says, frowning.

Ryan snorts and pulls Michael into his lap, coasting his hands over his hips. "I dunno. But if that ever happened to me, I'd probably be, like, a parakeet or something."

"More like a dog." Michael says, smirking, and Ryan yanks him down and kisses him roughly.

"But we can forget about it, because that's never gonna happen." Ryan tells him when he pulls away. Michael smiles.

"Never." He agrees, but he can't be entirely sure. Because if it happened to him, it could happen to anyone, right?


End file.
